


WTF 27

by turps



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-28
Updated: 2011-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-25 01:00:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turps/pseuds/turps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I joined the <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/wtf27/profile">wtf27</a> challenge on Live Journal. 27 crackfic prompts which I'm writing as one interlocked story featuring all of Nsync. They should be in order.</p><p>Please be aware this is unfinished, and will always remain so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Girls

There had been no hint that things were about to change. No crows roosting on top of the buses. No ominous silences or strange men looking their way. Well, no stranger than normal, anyway.

No, everything had been normal. Travel, rehearse, dance, sing. Lather, rinse, repeat.

All Lance knew was that he´d gone to sleep in his bunk. There had been a soft pillow under his cheek, and headphones jammed in his ears because Joey and Steve just wouldn´t shut up. And then this: waking in a corridor, cold metal against his face, shivering as he sat up. He had looked around, and been both relieved and dismayed to find Justin a few feet away.

The corridor echoed with empty sound, curving into the distance, silver walls broken by twenty-seven metal doors. Each door has a number and a word or two on a plaque welded to it. They found JC next to number twelve. Joey and Chris outside sixteen and twenty-four. Confused greetings as they kept walking, hushed voices and hurried footsteps until they halted, back at door number one.

No-one knew how they´d got here, and that was the scariest thing of all. Until it wasn´t, when they saw the sheet of paper where nothing had been before.

~*~*~*~

  
Okay, so let's see if I've got this. We have to enter each of these twenty-seven rooms before we go home." Justin gestures towards the doorways. "Go into them blind, with no clue what's in there except what´s on the door. That´s insane. What kind of maniac thought up rules like that?!’

The kind that kidnapped us in our sleep and brought us here, obviously.’ Lance waves the laminated print-out of instructions in Justin´s direction. I´ve read this out three times, you´ve read it. We´ve all read it. You bitching isn´t going to change things.’

Maybe not. But it makes me feel better.’ Justin scowls, brows almost meeting under the furrowed lines of his forehead. Lance has to admire his stamina, even Chris stopped protesting and kicking at the walls an hour ago. Justin´s the last one standing, and he's pacing the corridor. Lance´s head aches from the sound of sneakers squeaking against the metal floor, and his mouth is gritty and dry.

This is stupid. Things like this don´t happen.’ A savage echoing kick, and Justin sinks to the floor next to JC. They just don´t.’

The world´s a strange place sometimes,’ JC says. Lance looks at him, waiting for him to say more, but he stays silent, offering comfort by patting Justin´s knee.

I think we´ll have to do this. I can´t see any other option.’ Joey is slumped against the wall. He looks at them all and indicates the instructions Lance is holding. There´s no other way out, and no way am I going to sit here and starve to death when there's something we could be doing that might get us out of here.’

He´s right. Although we´d probably die of thirst first, but whatever.’ JC shrugs, soothing Justin with more pats when Justin looks at him with wide eyes. It mightn´t be that bad.’

That bad!’ Chris shrieks.

Lance winces, headache spiking, reminded vividly of Chris´ earlier protests - high-pitched curses and shouts that were never meant to be listened to in a glorified echo chamber.

You´ve read the thing, seen the doors. Do you really want to see what´s behind the wings door? Or the tentacles.’

It´s the mpreg that worries me.’ Joey shudders, obviously remembering Brianna´s birth.

We´re going to do this aren´t we?’ Justin interrupts, sounding resigned, and Lance wants to say no. That they´ll wait, be saved, do anything but play along with some mad man by going into those rooms. Problem is, they are going to do it, because there´s not really any other choice.

There is heavy silence, then a series of nods, and, by reluctant agreement, they stand.

Where to first?’ Joey´s looking up the corridor. His expression mirrored by them all, uncertainty, determination and fear.

I guess we start with number one.’ Chris moves toward the first door. Genderswap. Just great.’

I´m going to be a girl. I know it.’ There´s muffled laughter, and Lance glares at Chris and Justin, because it´s not funny at all. All those years of being teased about his child bearing hips. If anyone's going to be switching genders, it's bound to be him.

We´d better do this together.’ JC´s hand is on Lance´s shoulder, comforting and familiar as he holds the other in front of him. One by one they place their hands together, a circle of friends and shared love, just like before a show. Then Chris straightens his shoulders, whispers ‘good luck´ and opens the door.

~*~*~*~

There´s a flash, and glittering streams of light. The scent of apples, petrol on a summer's day. Wind whipping at his clothes.

Lance lands with a bump, sprawling to the floor.

He lies still, stunned, while his stomach sinks back into place.

Oh hell no!’ It sounds like Joey  sort of. Joey voice with added pitch and a backdrop of smooth honey. Dawning suspicion and Lance opens his eyes, looking around as he pushes himself up, fighting against gravity that suddenly hits in all the wrong places. He collapses down, back hitting hard against grass when he sees Joey scrambling to his feet. Joey with shining dark hair to his shoulders, a nipped in waist and generous hips. Girl Joey is pretty, beautiful - but still - yeah. Lance shuts his eyes against that confusing thought.

Tell me this isn´t as bad as it feels,’ Justin says, his accent strong and wrapped around a lighter voice than before. Steeling himself, Lance cautiously opens an eye. Justin is sitting down, legs sprawled as he pats at his hair. He´s showing more than he should, an expanse of long golden legs and his shoes are topped with dainty blue bows. Forcing his eyes upwards, all Lance can focus on is his hair: golden curls that explode crazily from his head, decorated with matching bows.

Shirley Temple much.’ Chris doesn´t even try to hide his laughter, poking at Justin's curls with a black-tipped finger nail.

At least I´m not channelling Mortica Adams.’ Justin snaps, struggling to his feet and looking down at Chris. Lance has to admit that the Adams Family reference is valid, or at least a hybrid of that. He didn't remember Morticia wearing thigh high black kilts held together with shining rows of silver safety pins or a corset, which is showcasing Chris´ more than ample charms.

You´re just jealous.’ Chris pokes at his breasts and smiles a black lipsticked smile. He smoothes his hand over glossy black hair. You look like you belong in a collection case next to the other porcelain dolls.’

Better that than standing on a street corner with the other freaks.’ Justin glares, but the effect is diluted by his pouting, rosebud lips and delicately rouged cheeks.

You both look fantastic.’ JC is looking from Chris to Justin, and Lance can easily imagine his thoughts. He looks amazing himself  herself? - all sleek lines and defined muscles, dressed in short shorts and a midriff bearing top

Pervert.’ Justin obviously knows too, mixing a scowl and laughter as he flips JC the bird.

Nice girls don´t do that, J.’ JC is grinning as he ducks away from Justin´s slapping hands, moving to stand next to Lance. This close, JC smells good, flowers and the sea.. You look great, too.’

Lance takes JC´s word for it. He had caught glimpses of breasts and smooth legs, and felt silky fabric when he'd checked to be sure his dick really had vanished, and that was disturbing enough. He has no desire at all to know more.

So what now?’ Joey slinks closer to Lance and JC, hips swaying as he moves.

I´ve no idea.’ Lance´s headache is back, and he pinches at his nose with nails which are much longer than before.

I´ve been thinking. It could be like that show. You know? The one with Captain Archer.’ Chris walks closer, and Lance notes that the boots he´s wearing add at least four inches to his height.

What? Enterprise?’ Joey looks confused, but Chris shakes his head.

He means Quantum Leap." JC waves his arms as he explains, exposing even more skin. "You know, leaping into other people´s lives. Righting a wrong. Taylor and I watched it all the time. Sam was the dude. Remember that episode when he was in a beauty pageant?’

Hell yeah. Sam as a woman, not good.’ Chris is laughing, and the ornate cross nestled between his breasts jiggles. Lances tries not to look, focussing on Justin who suddenly smiles.

A beauty pageant. I can do that. It´s like riding a bike, you never forget.’ Justin pats at his hair, fluffing the curls as he unleashes his professional smile. It´s a powerful force, and Lance feels himself drawn forward.

Like you´d win looking like that. We´d have to enter Joey, he´s stacked.’

Joey beams at Chris´ comment. I´ll enter. Take one for the team.’ He twirls, and the slit in his dress reveals even more thigh, making JC and Chris whoop and applaud.

Lance can only wish it´s something as simple as a beauty contest. Being judged on looks, the ability to answer inane questions and walk in a straight line is second nature for all of them. Somehow he doesn´t think it´ll be that easy. We´ll never find out anything just standing here.’ Lance impatiently brushes away a lock of hair that flops over his eyes. It´s the same colour as his mom´s. He still doesn´t want to know.

There are buildings over there.’ Joey´s shading his eyes against the lowering sun. He´s on tiptoes, calves lean and leading to killer spiked heels. Lance doesn´t understand how Joey can even stand, never mind walk.

Come on then.’ Chris is already moving, boots flattening the grass as he strides away. His kilt moves with each step, flipping outward, exposing more leg each time.

You think panties come with that outfit?’ Joey asks as he stares.

I hope not.’ JC says. He licks his lips, a dart of tongue as he watches Chris walk away.

We could find out.’ Justin´s grinning, poised to run. Hey, Kirkpatrick. You wearing panties!?’

Wouldn´t you like to know!?’ Chris turns, hair swinging out in a dark wave. His cross hits against his shoulder and he´s laughing as he keeps turning, starts running as JC and Justin give chase.

The images start to overlap with other memories, countless chases, insults and laughter, except this time there´s skirts and bouncing chests, and Lance squeeze shut his eyes.

Hey man, it´s not that bad. At least we´re hot.’ Joey leers exaggeratedly, and Lance can´t help but smile.

Joey´s hand is against Lance´s arm, red fingernails against his skin. A comforting touch as they walk, following the others.

~*~*~*~

There are pools of light on the sidewalk, bright spots in the darkness from the streetlamps that shine high overhead. People are everywhere, talk and laughter and clattering feet. Music collides in the air, drifting from bars and cafes, twisting together in a snarl of notes and beat.

So, what now?’ Justin looks lost. Lance knows how he feels. It´s not like he was expecting a sign flashing _do your thing here_ , but he expected something. Not the normality of this scene, and even that´s scary, because when did being female become normal?

I guess we look.’ It´s a warm night and JC rubs a hand under the waistband of his shorts, attracting the attention of a passer by. The man smiles, and JC matches him smile to smile, tossing his head so his thick ponytail of curls trails down his back.

Why don´t we try in there?’ Chris points to the nearest bar and wraps his other hand around JC´s arm. JC eases into the touch, silky movements, and he´s pressed against Chris as the man winks and walks away.

Floozie.’ In his boots, Chris can look JC in the eyes, and they´re talking without words, whole conversations based on the curl of mouth and slant of eyebrows. At least that hasn't changed. Lance can´t help translating; always watching and ensuring things are fine.

Are we going in or what?’ Justin pushes between Chris and JC, pointing them toward the bar.

They walk as a group, clicking heels and the soft thud of boots against the sidewalk. They have to pass two bouncers to get inside, and Joey preens under their gaze, smiling wide, one hip thrust out, allowing his dress to expose a long length of leg. A flash of jealousy and Lance is at his side. It´s unexpected and confusing and Lance doesn´t want to think about it too much, just steers Joey toward the door.

The room is huge, filled with strobe lights and illuminated bars. Sofas line the walls, low and intimate, arranged around tables that face the dance floor. It´s like a million clubs Lance has been to before, but he´s never felt the music crawl across his bare back, something fluttering in his stomach as he stands and stares . Justin is heading toward a bar already. He eases through the crowd, confident and sure, despite not being dressed for this place at all. None of them are really, but Justin and JC are the most out of place.

Come on.’

Joey´s hand is against Lance´s back. It´s smaller, smoother, and Lance shivers at the touch. He pulls away, needing distance and heads for the bar, always aware of Joey at his side.

Chris has claimed a bar stool, feet hooked around its legs. He´s flashing an expanse of inner thigh, and Lance can´t help seeing that panties do come with the outfit; matching ones even.

That´s not ladylike, Chris.’ Justin carefully seats himself on a stool, legs crossed and hands primly on his lap. He´s a vision of purity that´s jarring in this room, but Lance knows better. Can see the laughter behind Justin´s schooled expression.

Fuck off.’ Chris kicks at Justin´s leg, aiming at a delicate ankle.

Is that Nick Carter?’ JC suddenly cuts in, inclining his head to indicate the left of the bar.

Lance isn´t sure at first, but a second look confirms it. It is Nick, hair hidden under a dark bandana, sporting a pathetic excuse for a goatee and clothes that have clearly seen better days. More than anything it´s the slumped shoulders and lack of smile that disguises him so well. Nick is made to smile, and he's all beaming grins and laughter in Lance's memories. Up close his energy is a physical thing but there´s no evidence of that now as he makes for one of the couches toward the back of the room.

He looks down,’ Justin says, rubbing at his ankle. You don´t think.’

Lance does think, a dawning realisation that this may be their illuminated sign. It´s too much of a coincidence otherwise, but still -- Nick Carter.

So what do we do now? Go up and ask what´s wrong?’ Joey asks.

I´ve no idea.’ Lance can´t answer. All of this is confusing to the extreme, and what if approaching Nick is the wrong thing to do?.

Come on. As much as I kick ass like this, I miss my dick.’ Chris slides from the stool, feet thumping against the floor. He pushes his hair back over his shoulders, then scowls when Justin grabs his arm.

Hold on. We can´t just walk over there. What if he recognises us?’ Justin´s frowning, perfect thin brows lowered.

Like that´s going to happen. We´re girls.’

Yeah, girls that look like us. Nick´s not stupid, if we go walking over like this he´ll know something´s up. Hell, look at Lance, he´s a hot version of his mom.’

Lance wants to block his ears, pretend that he can´t hear Justin. It´s impossible.

Man, are you saying Diane isn´t hot, because.’

If you say one more word I´ll have to kill you.’ Lance rests his finger against JC´s belly, pushing hard enough to indent the skin.

You´ve got it. Lips sealed and all that.’

JC mimes zipping his lips, and, seeing as being a woman doesn´t make him any less of a dork, all Lance can do is smile. Good.’ He moves his finger from JC´s belly with a last little prod, then, considering, looks over at Nick. As much as I hate to say it, Justin´s right. We can´t all go over there. We need someone he´d want to talk to. What´s his type these days?’

Yeah, like we keep track of Nick Carter´s love life.’

Lance raises an eyebrow, and he knows he´s still got it when Justin flushes an even deeper red than his carefully coloured cheeks.

What?! I don´t know.’ Lance keeps looking, calling bullshit with his gaze, until eventually Justin looks away. I read is all. If any of you heathens read every now or then you´d know these things too.’

I didn´t think Cosmo was a degree level text, then again, what do I know? I´m just a heathen,’ Joey teases. He´s leaning against the bar, legs wide and taking up more space than he needs to. It´s a masculine pose but looks anything but with those long legs outlined in the sleek dress, his chest thrust up and out.

I read real books too, ass. But whatever, we´re not talking about that.’ Justin shrugs and pats at his hair. Nick´s been into small, cute, and interesting lately. It´ll have to be Chris.’

Okay, interesting is fine. Small and cute, I don´t think so.’ Chris is bristling and attempts to fold his arms, giving up when he hits corset and cleavage.

You´d rather be big and ugly like Joey?’

Justin winks, and JC reaches out his hand, resting it on the swell of Joey´s hip.

Joey´s not ugly.’

I´m not big either, just padded. More to hold onto, if you know what I´m sayin'.’ Joey makes an obscene gesture with his fist and thrusts his hips. Lance has to force himself to look away, hating the heat that flows through his skin.

You´re an animal, Joe.’ Chris holds out his hand for a high five. Smaller than usual hands slap together, black nail varnish against red. I´d better go and save the day. God knows, someone has to." Chris hops down from his stool.

To the causal observer, Chris appears confident, but he´s tapping his fingers on the bar, lip caught slightly between his teeth. Tiny signals that show how unsure he really is as Chris narrows his eyes and stares across at Nick.

I´ll go talk to him, see if there are any wrongs I can put right. But I´m telling you now, he´s not leaving his bunch of losers to join us.’ Chris looks at them all, as if daring them to disagree.

JC steps in front of Chris and grabs hold of his corset, tugging and arranging without shame, ending the preparations with a kiss against Chris´ cheek. There. You´ll slay him. Go get him, tiger.’

Chris nods sharply, and moves away without another word.

Lance is used to watching Chris move, their profession means he has to move, and even on downtime he´s rarely still. But Lance has never seen him like this, stalking through the dancers, each step graceful, hips rolling, hair bouncing against his exposed shoulders.

Man, Nick´s one lucky, cat.’

All Lance can do is agree.

~*~*~*~

It isn´t that Chris doesn´t know Nick. He´s known Nick since he was a gawky kid growing into his own body, all that perfect blonde hair and the wide smile hiding someone clinging to childhood despite being pushed into the adult world. They aren´t friends as such, but the connection has always been there, an understanding born of two people living the same sort of insane life.

That connection doesn´t help in the slightest now. Sure, they talk, and normally Chris wouldn´t have a second thought about approaching Nick, maybe sitting and shooting the breeze, with beers and greasy snacks made more delicious with the shared experience of PR suggestions they´ve both endured. Now though. Now Chris is a _girl_ , that has to change things. Fingers tapping against his thigh, he assesses the situation. He knows he´s looks good, the safety pins look cool pushed through the black material of his skirt, and shorts have nothing on the freedom of feeling air against his legs. The boots are kick ass. Plus, he´s got a sweet rack, breasts pale against the dark corset. Really, Nick would be a fool turning him away. Chris keeps telling himself that as he takes a final deep breath, sliding down onto the couch and into Nick´s space.

Hey.’

Nick looks up. He doesn´t attempt a smile, just glances at Chris before looking away, attention fixed on the glass clenched in his hand. There´s no smile, no slipping into the _dealing with fans_ mode that Chris knows so well.

Chris can´t help worrying.

I saw you and.’

Do you want an autograph?’ Nick cuts in, and the words are right even if the tone isn´t at all.

No. I.’

Fair enough.’ Nick shrugs a little and drains the glass, swallowing his drink with one gulp. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and places the glass on the low table, clinking against the others that already stand there.

It´s just.’

I guess you want more. They all do.’

Chris glares. He hates being interrupted, especially when there´s something important to say.

Will you just shut up a moment?’ Chris has spent years perfecting the elder boybander tone. He may not use it often, but it´s there, and he leans forward slightly as Nick finally looks him in the eye.

That´s freaky. Like. Kevin.’ Nick´s eyes widen as he takes a quick look around. Chris is torn between amusement and horror. If being a girl wasn´t enough, now he sounds like Kevin Richardson?

Look. I don´t want more. Or an autograph. All I want is to sit down and talk. Is that okay?’ Chris demands, knowing Nick can get come ons at any time, sultry gazes and seductive praising words. Which is fine at first, but gets old fast. He just hopes Nick feels the same.

You can stay.’

Gee. Thanks.’ Sarcasm loaded words, and Chris rolls his eyes.

I´m getting another drink. What do you want?’ Nick stands, teetering slightly and Chris puts his hand against Nick´s thigh.

I´ll have a beer.’

Not very ladylike.’

Nick is staring down, gaze fixed on Chris´ chest. Chris smiles, tilts back his head so his hair trails down his bare shoulders to frame his boobs. I´m no lady.’

~*~*~*~

  
As much as I love watching Chris do his thing, it gets kinda old from a distance. I´m gonna dance.’

Justin takes a moment to pull at his dress, then he´s hurrying to the dancefloor, JC only half a step behind. Lance waits for Joey to leave too, but he doesn´t. Instead he signals to the bar tender.

If we´re waiting we might as well be comfortable. Two beers, please.’ Joey pats his side, going for his wallet, then looks at Lance with wide eyes. Have you got any money?’

There´s a moment of panic, realisation that his wallet is long gone. Money and credit cards, and photos ... The only thing Lance has is the small purse he woke up wearing looped over his shoulder. He pulls it open, relieved to see a credit card and lipstick tucked inside.

Lana Bass. Lame.’ Lance peers at the card before handing it over to the barman. It´s freaky to see his signature on the back of the card - someone has planned this, thought of all the details in advance. It makes Lance nervous, stomach bubbling as he pushes back thoughts of why and how. He takes his beer, drinking deeply. It tastes good, cooling his overheated body, and Lance clinks his bottle with Joey´s before they head toward an empty table.

Lance sinks down onto the soft couch. Self-consciously he smoothes his hands over his legs, tugging at his skirt, which ends mid thigh. Joey´s sitting close, lounging back as they watch Justin and JC dance. As always they´re attracting attention, albeit a slightly different type, and the crowd surrounding them thickens with every song. They never notice, just keep dancing, their skin becoming shiny with sweat.

I knew JC would make a good girl, but Justin. The hands you know? I thought he´d be kinda butch, but he´s so not.’ Joey´s holding his beer bottle between two fingers, balanced on the swell of his stomach as he watches Justin and JC. He sounds serious, as if he´s really given this some thought. Lance stays silent. His friends as women is something that´s honestly never crossed his mind.

Chris is hot too, I´d do him.’ Joey´s on his feet before Lance can reply. From this angle he´s huge, towering up high. Give me your card, I´ll get more drinks.’

~*~*~*~

You don´t know how it is. It looks so good, but isn´t. At least. Sometimes, yeah, it is good. Most of the time even. But you get no privacy and I keep ending up in the gossip rags.’ Nick´s glass tilts, spilling vodka. The wet patch spreads across his pants leg, growing toward his knee.

You can´t let it get to you, man.’ Chris takes a sip of his beer, grimacing at the black lipstick that coats the neck. No one believes what they read in those trash mags.’

No. No, they do. I mean, they´re all lies, but still.’ Nick slumps, head forward as he stares into his glass. All I wanted was a relationship, but no. No offence, but women lie.’

None taken.’ Chris´ nails tap against the bottle. Nick´s revealing more of himself to Chris than ever before; emotions hauled out by a combination of alcohol and a friendly unknown ear. It makes Chris feel guilty, especially when Nick quickly wipes the knuckles of his hand across his eyes.

I thought she was the one, and then she did that, you know? That´s why I stopped dating. Why put yourself out there to be kicked down?’

Not all women are like that.’

Nick snorted. The sane ones seem to keep away from me.’

Chris searches for something to say. He understands the difficulties of dating in the public eye, but explaining that to Nick would be impossible. I guess. All you can do is keep looking.’

That´s it? No great piece of advice?’ Nick´s frowning, forehead creased under the bandanna pushed low on his head.

There´s nothing else to say. You date or you don´t, but somehow I don´t see you as celibate.’

Tell me about it.’ Nick shifts in his seat a little, palming himself briefly over his pants.

So do something about it. There´s plenty of women out there. You just need to find the right one.’

Is this when you tell me that´s you, and that we´d be great together?’ There´s a hint of a smile on Nick´s face, chasing away the strain that lines his eyes and mouth.

As if. This isn´t for you.’ Chris indicates his body with a swoop of his hand.

Shame,’ Nick says softly, and rests his hand on Chris´ thigh. He´s warm, finger tips rough as he moves them, stroking gently. Because if I have to look, why not start with you?’

Chris knows the answer, but the reply is swept away when Nick moves closer, his hand sliding under Chris´ skirt. The contact makes him shiver, sensation focussed on his upper thigh. Arousal feels _weird_ as a girl.

We shouldn´t do this.’ Chris´ protest is lame, obviously not meant at all, and he offers no resistance when Nick bends for a kiss. Nick tastes of vodka and the faint memory of limes. Dry lips and his hand is against Chris´ back, blunt nails against skin as Chris turns, wrapping his arms around Nick´s back. This is hidden fantasies suddenly bursting into life, hot and dizzying, holding on and fighting for breath at the feel of Nick´s mouth on his neck. The sting of teeth and his skirt riding up under Nick´s hand.

It´s too public and too soon. Chris couldn´t care less.

~*~*~*~

There are certain problems to being a girl. Lance´s hates the feel of panty hose, especially how they twist around his thighs. His nails are stupid, too, especially when he catches himself in the eye, and as for breasts. He´s never seen the appeal, and now he has a pair of his own, he still doesn´t. They´re always _there_ , getting in the way. Really, they´re quite useless, and Lance prods at one, giggling as he does so. That´s another thing; girls have no tolerance, at all. Four beers and he´s swaying in place, holding onto the couch arm as the club melts into swirling bands of colour.

Lance.Lance, I think we should go get some air.’ Joey staggers to his feet and holds out his hand, but when Lance grabs hold Joey falls forward, and Lance is faced with a lapful of laughing girl Joey.

No. Joey. The air is there.’ Lance wildly throws out his arm, pointing toward outside.

I know. We should go.’ Joey´s nodding, and his hair is falling into Lance´s face, soft and silky. Lance has to touch, letting the strands slip through his fingers.

We should go.’ Lance lets his hand slip downward, over Joey´s bare shoulder, down over his chest, and maybe breasts are stupid, but Joey´s feel nice. Firm and round and Lance can´t seem to move his hand away.

Come on.’ Joey braces his arms on the couch back, and pushes himself up. He side steps once, then steadies, holding out his hand again.

Lance allows himself to be pulled upright. He keeps holding Joey´s hand as they carefully pick their way through the club, heading toward the main door. They pass Nick and Chris, at least Lance assumes it´s Chris. All he can see is a pair of black nailed hands wrapped around Nick´s back.

It´s tempting, but they don´t stop, Chris seems to be in control of the situation and Lance wants to get outside right now. His head is spinning and he clings to Joey´s hand tightly as they step into the night. The street is almost deserted now, a couple walking hand in hand, someone talking on their cell, gesturing angrily, one sided conversation filling the air. It´s a jarring contrast to inside, and Lance feels muffle-headed and stupid, confused even as Joey runs his thumb over the back of Lance´s hand.

Do you know what you´re doing? Because I can´t just play. Not with you.’

Lance feels suddenly, shockingly, sober and knows blaming the alcohol isn´t going to be an option. He´s got no excuses for wanting Joey this badly, but maybe he doesn´t need any. It´s just is as it is. Things shouldn´t be so complicated. He tugs Joey into an alley, and Joey follows easily. It´s full of dumpsters, their contents spilling to the ground. There´s smashed bottles glinting in the dull light. Lance walks over them, feet crunching the glass.

I´m not playing,’ Lance says, and he backs Joey against the wall, runs his fingers over Joey´s cheekbones, bold touches. Feeling this Joey but seeing another.

Tell me again when alcohol isn´t involved.’ Joey sounds sad, but then his mouth is against Lance´s neck, his hands wandering down, pulling at Lance´s skirt. It hitches up, and Lance feels exposed, heart racing at the touch of cold air against his legs, the warmth of Joey´s fingers as they slide upward.

Lance has kissed Joey before, brief touches against cheek or mouth, but nothing like this. The waxy taste of lipstick, full lips, his hands against Joey´s back, fingers spread over soft skin.

~*~*~*~

Nick. Nick. We have to stop.’ Chris hates being the sensible one, and he scowls as the elastic of his panties twangs against his leg when Nick pulls away.

I guess we got carried away.’ There´s a hint of red colouring Nick´s cheeks, but his eyes sparkle as he smiles. It isn´t his usual mega watt grin, but it´s a good start, and Chris can´t help smiling back as he smoothes down his hair and adjusts his corset.

What I said before. About not dating.’ Nick rubs at his face, absently touches his neck, fingering the blooming mark Chris has left there. I know this is sudden, but.’

~*~*~*~

Flashing lights, and Lance thinks cameras, jerking back as the world twists and pulls apart. Roaring sounds and he´s suddenly nothing, atoms scattered in the air, then thrust back together as he falls. He lands in a painful crash of body against floor, the others appearing around him.

That was wild!’ Justin stands with one fluid movement. He´s damp with sweat, and his eyes shine as he moves to stand over Chris. You must have fixed things. What did you do?’

Chris has his legs pulled up to his chest, arms linked around them as he looks up at Justin. There´s a mark on his neck and Lance matches it against Nick´s mouth, imagination fuelled by Chris´s swollen lips, the way he grins when JC crawls close.

Justin kneels, hand on Chris´ knee. You banged Nick Carter?’

Nope, didn´t get the chance. We made out a little, but I think it was the talking that did it.’ Chris´ grin fades, becomes something smaller, more private. He´d sworn off women. I told him he was insane. That boy was not made to be celibate. The lights came when he asked me on a date.’

And that was it? Our Leap situation was to push Nick Carter off the celibacy wagon.’ Justin shakes his head and Lance understands. It seems too minor, if they have to play these rooms, stay in this place, surely they should be something more than that?

So, what was it like? Did you get the chance to sample the goods?’ JC has his hand on Chris´other knee, waiting for him to answer. I was going to explore a little, but got distracted. Pity, I was a hot girl.’

You were,’ Chris agrees. Better than Shirley Temple there. And it was good. Nick sure knows what he´s doing with his hands.’

Too much information goth girl.’ Justin has his hands over his ears, but drops them as he sits down, taking a place next to Chris and JC. So, Nick. Tell me more.’

Lance tunes out the answer, he has no desire to know about Nick´s technique. Well, maybe a little, but he needs to sit next to Joey more.

Joey´s looking at Lance, unsure. Lance leans against him, comfortable against his shoulder, and Joey´s skin isn´t super soft and his hair isn´t long and silky. That doesn´t matter at all.

We´d better get going,’ JC says eventually, when the conversation dies down, and they're still sitting in the bare corridor. .They all stand, staring at the next door. Animal transformation. Surely that can´t be that bad?

  



	2. Dogs

Justin opens his eyes to the endless cross-cross of wire mesh. He looks up, blinking and trying to understand what kind of fence keeps going up and up. Then he looks down, and sees shaggy paws. Brown, fuzzy paws, the toes separated by tufts of white fur. Realisation dawns and he feels dizzy, because, after the girl thing, he knew this could happen, but knowing that it might happen does nothing to pad the shock of suddenly being covered in fur. He moves his hand, and one of the paws steps to the side, black nail snicking against the concrete floor.

It said animal transformation, but this.’ Justin can hear himself talk, except his voice has changed, raspy gruffness through the tone.

Justin? Is that you?’

Justin turns, and discovers that coordinating four feet is hard, four lanky legs moving in different ways. He sighs, which comes out as a harsh bark, and concentrates. One two three four, and he´s looking at another dog. A big, skinny dog, with flappy ears covered in curly fur. Justin sniffs, drawing in air that sings, sharing information, that there´s a bitch nearby, that there's water close, and that this dog is JC.

JC smells like friendship and warmth, delicious smells that draw Justin near, sniffing across silky fur, over the lean body, along to a wildly wagging tail.

Getting friendly there aren´t you?’ Justin´s never seen a dog laugh - he didn´t think they could - now he knows different. Joey´s smaller than Justin and JC, with a stocky brown body and a blunt tail that's whipping through the air. His mouth is open, long tongue rolling free, and despite the lack of lips, the muzzle, he´s smiling.

Jealous much?’ JC butts Justin with his head, uses his silky tail to whap Joey across his nose.

Of butt sniffing? I don´t think so.’ One of Joey´s ears pricks up, and he circles in place as a new dog walks out of a small doorway in the back wall. Justin´s seen dogs like this before. White with long fur that trails to the floor, hair pulled back from their eyes in cutsey bows. This one is an off white, and the hair´s pulled back with a plain elastic band, but still, the breeding is still obviously there. Figures you´d be a pedigree.’ Joey is laughing again, doggy snuffles, licking Lance´s nose when he comes close.

So I´m some kind of mutt and Lance is a Shih Tzu. Figures.’ Justin sits, flopping to the side as he tries to control his too long legs. A fuzzy ear falls into his eyes and he shakes his head as he looks at Lance. Cool hair.’

I´ll take your word for it.’ Lance is looking around, taking in the wire wall and the blankets, the chewed toys and the bowls in the corner of the pen. Carefully he circles the available space, daintily picking up his feet. Pedigree or not, I´m still in a kennel.’

No, man. You probably ran away. Like in Lady and the Tramp. Do you smell of bitch.’ JC sticks his nose against Lance´s side, head down as he sniffs.

I hope not.’ Lance says quickly, and Justin can´t help laughing, wheezing to himself, mouth open and drooling.

Has anyone seen Chris?’ Joey´s question breaks through Justin´s laughter, and he feels guilty that he didn´t think to ask.

He´s back there.’ Lance points with one small paw, and there´s something in his expression that Justin doesn´t like. He´s no dog whisperer but he knows Lance, and can smell the taint of sorrow that the pedigree pup is trying to hide.

It´s okay. I´m coming.’ Chris´ voice rasps. He´s breathing hard and Justin takes a step towards him, flank to flank with JC as Chris walks into sight. He's small with pointed black ears, grey scattered through dark fur and he takes slow, careful steps, each one painful to watch. His head is down, grey beard almost to the floor. Looking up, there´s an echo of laughter in his eyes, past glories shadowed by the gleam of pain. They´re all silent, waiting as Chris collapses onto a red blanket, sighing when he´s finally down.

Chris.’ JC´s moving, long legs eating up the small space. He towers over Chris, long brown fur resting on the black scruff of Chris´ back.

This sucks. I´m a dog and I can´t even lick my own balls.’ Chris rests his head on his front paws, rolls his eyes with disgust.

I can do it. You know, if you want.’ JC has folded himself down, long body curled around Chris´.

Maybe later, I need a nap now.’ Chris´ eyes are shutting, and the smell of old age surrounds him. It´s bitter, coating Justin´s mouth as he snuffles at Chris's back, and he wants to whimper, howl these new fears to the universe.

Okay, cat -- dog.’ JC´s head is against Chris´, on guard as Chris sleeps with gasping snores.

How are we supposed to solve a leap in a kennel?’ Joey´s pressed against the wire wall. He keeps looking towards the dark door to the kennel building, and out through the wire to the other cages that surround theirs. The smell of uncertainty rolls off him, and Justin whines softly.

I have no idea. I guess all we can do is wait,’ Lance says, and he's trying to sound calm, but the faint scratch of nails against the floor gives him away. Lance always clenches his hands when he's anxious.

We haven´t got time to wait.’ JC licks across Chris´ head, pink tongue against black fur. Chris shifts under the touch, paws moving rhythmically, and Justin can almost count old dance routines in the beat.

What else can we do?’ Lance´s voice is sharp, a howl in the air, and other dogs cry their replies, yips and barks coming from all sides. Justin wants to join in, tips back his head and opens his mouth. He stops when Lance drops to the floor, head on his outstretched paws.

Shush, listen.’ Joey has his head tilted to one side, ear pricked. Someone´s coming.’

Justin scrambles to stand. Nose pressed against the wire as he tries to look along the corridor. The dogs opposite are jumping up too. Justin can sense their excitement, their need to be seen. He jumps too, caught in the moment as he springs upward, panting as an unseen door opens with a swish.

This is fun.’ Joey´s jumping now, and slather glistens in the air as he bumps against Lance, who´s quivering in place. JC scrambles up then, ears bouncing, and Chris is awake and watching, alert as he looks at his friends. Then there´s no thought, nothing but instinct as Justin's claws catch at the fence.

The noise around them increases when voices are heard, excitement peaking. Then Justin is suddenly weighted to the floor, can only look out of the cage and whine. It´s Trace. A seven year old Trace. Justin remembers that t-shirt, the holey jeans and messy hair. One glipse of Trace's gap-toothed smile and Justin is a child again, long summer days in the sunshine playing ball.

Trace,’ Justin says, a soft bark and he wants Trace´s hand buried in his scruff. Chubby arms wrapped around his body. Transported back to an uncomplicated time.

Mom. Look at this one! Trace has his fingers wrapped around the wire, and Justin sidles closer, licks along dirty fingers, provoking a delighted smile. I like this one. Can we have him? Please?’

Justin whines, pushes his muzzle into a small hand.

He is handsome.’ Trace´s mom is looking into the run. She looks good, relaxed, as she reads something attached to the outside of the cage. That´s Randy. Three years old. Pleasant nature, gets along with other dogs. A great choice for a family. It says his old owner died. Poor thing. You really want him? You haven´t seen the rest of the dogs yet.’

No. I want Randy.’ Trace has always known what he wants, and he faces his mom, one hand resting on the cage. He likes me. See.’ Justin takes the prompt, licking and unleashing puppydog eyes. Effective when he´s human, they seem to have double impact in dog form, and Trace´s mom scratches Justin through the wire.

Okay, honey. It´s your choice. We need to go fill in the paperwork and get things sorted. Come on, lets go tell the kennel man that you've found your dog.’

Trace leaves reluctantly with a last fingertip stroke along Justin´s fur.

The barking dies down when Trace and his mom leave. There´s a residue of sadness, disappointment from those not picked. Justin hangs his head. He hadn´t missed Trace until he´d seen him, but now the sensation is keen.

Was that Trace? It looked like a mini version of him.’ Lance asks

Yeah.’ Justin sighs. I can remember him getting a dog, but it was years ago.’

I guess time isn´t an issue for this thing then.’ Joey turns in place and then curls up in a tight circle. Shifting as Lance settles close to his side, white fur pressed against brown.

Being at the mercy of time is a scary thought, and Justin has the urge to dig. Smother this fear by scratching at the floor. He flexes his paws but lies still after one tentative scrape of claw against concrete.

I just wish I knew why we were here.’ JC´s eyes are wide as he lies next to Chris. They´re sharing warmth but there´s something more, comfort through touch, and Justin knows Chris´ time is running short. He doesn´t know how, it´s just a bone deep knowledge that´s always there.

I thought. You know, when I saw Trace. That was it.’ Justin settles down next to Chris and JC, says softly. I don´t know what to do.’

There´s only one thing we can do,’ Joey says, and his ears are flat to his head. Lance whines softly, and licks along Joey´s muzzle, over the flattened ears.

I know. We wait.’ It´s not the answer Justin wants. It´s the only one they have.

~*~*~*~

Justin only wakes up when the door shuts with a clang. He should have woken before, blames this stupid situation that hasn´t allowed them to eat, to sleep. He´s exhausted, but still, he should have woken before. Now it´s too late and Chris is on the other side of the fence, cradled in someone´s arms.

Jumping up, front legs against the fence, Justin barks in surprise. It´s Nick. Again. He looks young, hair pulled back in a ponytail and dressed in shorts and t-shirt. Chris is cradled against his chest, and Nick´s petting him, crooning under his breath, hand almost covering Chris´ side.

JC´s next to Justin now, Lance standing under him. Joey at Justin´s other side. The air feels thick, confusion and apprehension. Then Nick starts to move away.

Chris!’ JC leaps, jumping at the mesh. It moves under his weight, bows when Justin Lance and Joey pound against it too. Yelling and barking, frantic as Chris yelps, squirms in Nick´s arms.

Hey now, Champ. You´re feisty for an old guy.’ Nick strokes along Chris´ head and Justin tries to kid himself. That this is okay, Chris is going to see the vet, is going to be made better.

It´s Nick. I can get away from him. He´s a pussy.’ Chris is still struggling, small legs thrashing in the air. He´s held tight, though, and he´s getting nowhere. Chris keeps fighting, yelping, and a chorus of dogs back his every word.

Justin´s paws flex against the mesh, wire digging into his pads. Chris. What? What´s going on?’ He feels sick, knows the answer, has to ask anyway as Chris looks back at him.

In dog years I´m ancient. No one wants me and they can only keep us so long.’ Chris stops talking then. He´s afraid, shivering under Nick´s comforting hand. Then there´s a shift, a moment when he hides the fear, reassuring as he looks their way. It´s okay. Nick was talking to me before you woke up. I´ll just go to sleep. Nothing to it. But damn, of all the ways Backstreet could do me in.’

No!’ JC throws himself at the mesh, body slamming into it again and again. No!’

Hey, no. ‘C. It´s okay. Really. You´re gonna hurt yourself.’ Chris´ eyes are liquid, and Justin discovers that dogs can cry too as he feels salty tears soak into his fur. I don´t want to see any of you soon. Love you.’

Nick turns a corner, and Chris is gone. Justin falls to the floor, body like ice while JC keeps throwing himself at the fence, specks of blood from his paws scenting the air, and Lance and Joey howl.

~*~*~*~

Justin sits on the red blanket as the shadows move across the run.

The air is still, smothering as he waits. Then something twists deep inside, a part of him wrenched away and forever gone.

He whimpers, JC, Lance and Joey are heavy against his body, a song of grief trapped in their throats.

~*~*~*~

Justin smells Nick before he sees him. The scent of _their_ Nick, top notes of make-up and alcohol has been replaced by dog, but still, on a deeper level, this Nick is sunshine and ocean too. Come on, guys. Walkies.’ Nick´s outside the run, four leashes held in his hand. Justin hates him. He doesn´t know how Nick´s here, working in an animal shelter in the past, but he doesn´t care. He hates him anyway. Nick opens the door, but Justin doesn´t move, just keeps his head on his paws. Come on, it´s a beautiful day, perfect for a walk.’

With a quick snap, the lead is attached to Justin´s collar. Feeling a tug around his neck, he has to stand, waiting for the others. Eventually they leave in a jumble of dogs, Lance´s tail brushing under JC´s belly, Joey´s pointed ear against Justin´s side. Walking the corridor is an onslaught of noise and smells, dogs of all sizes jumping in their runs, wanting to get outside.

Justin´s claws click against the floor, and he sniffs again as they finally step into the sun. Head up, mouth open, tasting freedom and fresh air after being trapped inside. They´re led to a small enclosed field. It smells overwhelmingly of dog, and Justin darts for the fence, cocking his leg. This is his space now, and even knowing how irrational that is, he can´t help feeling pleased. Satisfied that he´s made his mark.

Go on, lads. Have fun.’ Nick unclips the leads, and Justin is running, long legs powering through the grass. It feels good, the wind whipping through his ears, the earth under his paws, sorrow pushed briefly aside. He can taste nature. It sings to him, pulling at urges he can´t understand.

He keeps running, circling repeatedly, barking at the air. Crying out his pain at losing Chris, at his family left so far behind. Justin adjusts effortlessly when Joey joins his song, harsh yips as he follows, always a half circuit behind. Lets Lance´s howl ground them, tiny legs a blur as he joins in, JC´s ears streaming back, mouth wide with song.

They´re Justin´s pack, his people, his brothers, and they mourn for the one they have lost.

Eventually they slow, sides heaving, panting for breath. Collapsing in a heap, Justin rests his head against JC´s side, comforted by the beat of his heart as hair tickles against his nose. Nick is leaning against the fence, talking to someone on his cell. Justin watches him for a moment, listens to disjointed words float on the wind. It´s difficult to make them out, easier to listen to the birds that cry out overhead, the faint noise from the kennel block, the sound of leaves rustling in trees. Then Justin hears something new, pricks his ears to hear more.

Trace.’ He stands, carefully steps over Lance and moves to the fence on the farthest side of the enclosure, sticking his head between the slats. Trace and his mom are hand in hand, standing across a driveway, next to a building with notice boards attached to the wall. Justin tries to read the posters but his vision is skewed, colours dimmed to grey. He watches as a woman he doesn't recognise steps into view, ushering Trace and his mom inside.

The door shuts, but Justin doesn´t move. He feels edgy, the air electrifying around him.

Justin?’ Lance tucks his head under Justin´s chin, bumping softly.

There´s something wrong. You can feel it, right?’ Justin looks at the others, and knows they´re feeling it too. He´s reminded of waiting to go on stage, adrenalin pumping but having to remain still.

Justin whines, his whole body quivering.

Look.’ JC´s muzzle is almost through the slats in the fence. He´s looking toward the building with the posters and ice shivers down Justin´s spine when he sees Trace ease out of the door.

Randy!’ Trace claps his hands, and carefully picks his way down the steps. Justin starts to bark, trying to attract Nick´s attention, but he´s still talking on the other side of the enclosure. They all bark, an explosion of sound, but it´s no good. Trace is at the bottom of the steps, smile wide and faded dusty jeans.

Trace. No!’ Justin is yelling, but of course Trace doesn´t understand and just sees his dog, barking. He can´t hear what Justin can : the purr of an engine, wheels against the road surface, a car coming close No!’ The fence is high, but Justin won´t see another friend die. He takes steps back, runs forward and leaps, paws scrabbling at the fence, claws digging into the wood.

Randy!’ Trace yells in excitement, running forward, focussed only on his dog. He doesn't see the car that´s appeared around the corner. Justin´s feet find the top of the fence and he´s flying through the air, hitting Trace in the chest and knocking him to the floor.

Trace lands on the dusty verge, startled into tears, but unhurt. Justin isn´t as lucky. Metal slams into his side and back legs. He's thrown across the driveway, landing against the fence. He tries to take a breath, but there´s something broken inside, a stabbing pain and the taste of blood against his tongue. Justin shuts his eyes against the falling darkness, but he can still hear the cries of his friends mixed with Trace´s sobs.

  
~*~*~*~

Justin! Justin, wake up!’

Justin forces open his eyes, wincing against the harsh light. He´s hurting, remembered aches concentrated in his legs and side, but rolls onto his back. JC is looking down at him, one hand on Justin´s shoulder, skin pale and eyes red-rimmed.

I thought you were dead.’ His hand bunches against Justin´s shoulder, voice rough with sorrow. Don´t do that again.’

He´d better not. I just about died again when he appeared. One death is enough for me.’

Chris?!’ Justin sits up, staring at Chris who´s sitting, leaning against the wall, looking unimpressed with the whole situation.

The one and only. Not only did I die, which may I say, sucked. I ended up in some kind of animal after life. Not that it was bad or anything, just I´d planned for hot girls and guys in skimpy clothes, golf and beer. Not Bambie, Lassie and an unlimited supply of chew toys. Oh, by the way Joey. Ermil the hamster says thanks a lot for sitting on him.’ Chris waves away Joey´s protests, focussed only on Justin. Then, you appear. About scared ten years off my life.’

Well technically if you´re already dead’ Justin doesn´t finish his thought, is gathered into a sudden crushing hug, Chris´ arms wrapped around him. You died,’ Justin says, the words whispered into Chris´ ear.

I came back,’ Chris says simply, making room in the hug for Lance, Joey and JC.

~*~*~*~

I want to go home.’ Justin´s standing next to door number three. He´s tired, hungry and his mouth tastes of dog biscuits.

You´re not the only one.’ JC rests his hand against Justin´s arm, squeezing slightly. Twenty-five more and we´ll get home.’ He looks at the door. I mean, object transformation. How hard can it be? It's got to be better than us getting transformed again, anyway. ’


	3. Objects

Lights flash and wind whooshes past Joey’s ears. Three times and it should be getting easier. It isn’t, and he tries to take a deep breath against the sourness in the pit of his stomach.

The breath never comes. He can’t breathe, can’t move, and panic surges. He doesn’t want to die like this, frozen in place, rigid and unable to move. Silent screams and he’s fighting against blind panic.

Darkness presses against his vision, spots floating past his open eyes. He’s being dragged under, and with a last desperate effort he manages to move his hand, and freaky long fingers and black lines twitch in response.

 _No no no no no._. The words fill Joey’s mind, because this…. This is insane. Girls were one thing, and being a dog wasn’t the highlight of his life, but at least he was alive. Not a piece of moulded plastic. This is impossible. Becoming a marionette is impossible. But here he is.

Concentrating hard, Joey manages to move his head, looking up at the stand that looms high above. Another movement and he looks to the right, his strings twitching when he sees Justin suspended to his side.

“Justin?” By focussing hard, Joey manages to speak. His voice sounds weird, flat and dull, but at least he’s making sound. “Justin?” He says again, but the Justin marionette doesn’t move at all.

Fear strikes once more. What if it is Justin over there, and he’s unable to make himself move? Justin could be drowning in plastic, which should be impossible because the damn puppets don’t even have lungs but still, everything in this goddamn place is impossible and Joey’s not going to take any chances.

Concentrating on his legs, he swings them back, grunting with effort as he bends a leg, pushing against the pole behind him. He moves forward, then back again, swinging higher until eventually the stand overbalances and topples forward.

Joey lands in a tangle of strings, metal bar and plastic. It doesn’t hurt, which yeah, is one plus to the puppet thing, but still. Lying on his back, one stiff leg upright in the air, the other bent double behind his back while his arms are wrapped around his head, not the most dignified position he’s been in. Though that time in Boston with J….No, this is the most undignified by far.

It takes a lot of cursing and concentrating before Joey manages to sort out his limbs. Hauling one hand from behind his neck, he notices that one of his long freaky fingers has been snapped off. Looking at the stump he hopes it’s not permanent, that finger is important, Kelly will kill him if he loses it.

Finally he’s sitting, propped against the stand. The Justin marionette’s knees are at his eyelevel, and Joey prods one with his hand. The puppet sways, its boots gently bumping against Joey’s stomach.

“Justin. Are you in there, man?” Joey prods the knee again, wraps his fingers around Justin’s boot. There’s no answering reply, and the marionette is stiff under Joey’s touch. “Justin!”

Clinging onto Justin marionette’s pants, Joey pulls himself up, apologising when his face brushes against crotch. When he’s finally upright, he touches Justin’s face, carefully running his fingers over the bright smile, the open eyes and curls. Joey shivers, it feels wrong. This isn’t Justin at all, and he turns away, blinking slowly.

Trapped in his own misery, Joey only registers the voice when it’s almost screaming at him. He falls back, wrapped in his own strings when he looks along the dresser he’s standing on, and sees a bobblehead, head moving crazily.

“Lance?” The head moves even faster, and Joey scrambles upright, eyes fixed on the bobblehead as he moves close. It’s a difficult journey, he has to navigate books and jewellery, necklaces and earrings becoming hazards now he’s inches tall with joints that seem to move at will.

Eventually though, he’s close, and he rests his hand on the bobblehead’s shoulder. “Lance? Are you in there?”

“What did JC say? This won’t be that bad? I’m a bobblehead, Joey. A fucking cowpant wearing bobblehead. All I can do is move my head and stand here.”

It’s Lance, an irate Lance who demonstrates his point by moving his head, painted chin almost hitting against his chest.

“Calm down, you might chip your chin, and man. Standing there and bobbing your head. At least you’re doing something that comes naturally to you.” Joey takes a step back when Lance bobs his head violently.

“You bastard, Joe. Don’t make me laugh when I want to wallow in my misery.” Lance’s head has stopped bobbing. He sighs, looking at Joey. “This is stupid. How are we supposed to do anything when I can’t even move and you’re a marionette?”

“I could push you.” It’s the only solution Joey can think of. They need to find the others and it’s not like Lance can walk. Having legs that are fused together on a base tends to hinder that.

“I guess.” Lance doesn’t sound keen, but nods his head in a determined manner. “Come on, the sooner we do this the sooner I can move again.”

Boots clicking against wood, Joey tucks his strings under his arm and puts a hand on Lance’s shoulders. He pushes, and Lance scrapes along the dresser. They move slowly. The strings keep tripping Joey up and his legs are hard to control. Lance tries to help, but really, there’s nothing he can do except encourage with words and bobs of his head.

“Wait! Wait! Joey. Listen.” Lance’s head is moving crazily and Joey looks up. They haven’t moved far after detouring around a heap of cds and the remains of a candy bar, but it’s far enough to see behind a stack of folders, and the untidy pile of papers beside them.

“Is that Justin? Justin!” One hand on Lance’s back, Joey listens. It sounds like Justin. Sort of. A flat toneless Justin maybe, but Joey can’t see him anywhere. Then the pile of papers move, and Joey steps forward, dropping to his knees. Except his stupid legs fall sideways and he’s doing the splits, his face pressed against the pile.

There’s a snickering sound from behind, but Joey ignores that to concentrate on pulling his legs back under his control. Then the papers under his face shift and he’s rolling to his side in surprise.

“Dude, I didn’t want to see up your nose.” There’s a rustling sound, and a small poster flutters from the top of the pile, landing at Lance’s feet. Pushing himself up, Joey looks down at it, unsurprised to see Justin staring up at him. And really, he’s been doing this too long if this isn’t a surprise.

“Justin?” Lance is trying to look down, but his head bobs back each time so he can only look at Justin in brief bursts. “You’re a poster.”

“I guess.” The poster curls at the top corners, and Joey assumes Justin is shrugging. “I managed to move a foot and saw the bottom of the page. I also saw some nasty looking sneakers printed on it, but I’m trying to forget those.”

Joey silently agrees. Being a poster is bad enough, being a bad euro days poster. Well, no one needs that much torture.

“Have you found Chris and JC? All I can see is the ceiling and upper walls,” Justin says, and he sounds so matter of fact that Joey knows he’s really freaked.

“Not yet. Joey, you’d better go look. You can move better than us.” Lance is bobbing again, looking at Justin who’s making the poster curl in slinky waves.

“Don’t go anywhere, okay?” Ignoring the pointed non replies, Joey steps over Justin’s foot – corner – and heads for the edge of the dresser. Hanging onto the thin base of a lamp, he looks around, taking in the room they’re in. It’s a typical teen room, clutter on the floor, bed made with pink rumpled covers. “We’re in a girl’s room, pink stuff everywhere. Posters on the wall, us and Backstreet….” Joey breaks off when something moves in the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he looks at the poster tacked to the wall, but it’s not Chris or JC. It’s Nick Carter, pouting and seeming to stare right at him.

“Joey. What’s up?”

Joey shakes his head, shouting back to Lance. “Nothing, thought I saw something is all. Wait.” Joey steps closer to the edge, boots hanging over space. “There’s something on the bed. It looks like one of those bears made to look like Chris, and a pillow with JC’s face on. It has to be them.”

“Is it the pastel bear? Those things are ugly.”

“No. It’s white.” There’s a flutter of paper, and Joey realises Justin’s laughing. He doesn’t ask why. Sometimes it’s best not to know.

“Can we get down there?”

Joey looks down to the bed, then back to Lance. “I think I could. You and J. Not so much.”

“You could push us off the edge. Justin would float down…”

“And what happens if he floats out of the window, or into the trash? It’s not like I can pick him up. As for you…” Joey shudders at the thought of Lance plummeting off the dresser to the floor. “You could break your neck, or shatter. So no. You two stay here, I’ll go.”

“And what happens if you fall? You’re a puppet. Puppets don’t climb.” Lance’s head is moving again, and Joey steps back, placing his hand under Lance’s chin.

“I’m not going to fall.” He runs a long finger down Lance’s cheek. It feels weird, plastic against painted plaster, but still. It’s Lance, Joey can sense him.

Lance rubs his head against Joey’s fingers. “Make sure you don’t.”

With a nod, Joey heads for the edge once more. He sits, feet hanging into space. The bed seems miles away, and Joey feels dizzy, but he has to get down. He has no choice, especially as the bear is jumping in place now, fuzzy hands up in the air.

Realising there’s only one way to do this, Joey swings himself over, and slips off the edge. He falls, shiny hands grasping at empty air as he frantically scrambles for something to hold. Slipping further, he can’t help crying out, then he grabs for a handle, holding on and hooking a leg over the metal. It’s a precarious position, and if Joey had a heart it would be thudding. Instead he holds on, eyes closed as Lance and Justin yell.

“I’m okay.” Finally Joey can speak, and he prises open his eyes. He’s landed opposite the bed, and he watches the bear hurry close.

“Joey, dude. Is that you? Because I’m gonna kick your ass. What do you think you’re doing falling down like that? You made the hair on my body stand on end; I looked like a freakin’ hedgehog!”

Chris. Okay, Joey pretty much knew it was Chris anyway, but seeing the bear hopping in place, talking without taking breath. Well, it had to be Chris. “It’s good to see you too. Is that JC?”

“Chris looks behind him, fat furry body turning in a full circle. “Yep, that’s him. Ironic really that he’s a pillow. All those interviews he gave about sleeping. But enough about that. You need to get over here. I know what’s wrong.”

“I think I’ll have to get to the floor and climb up,” Joey says. He’s about to let himself drop again when Chris waves stumpy arms in the air.

“No. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but you’ll have to jump. There’s no time for you to go down then up.”

There’s a smile stitched on the bear’s face, but Chris is doing anything but smiling. Joey can tell by the slope of his shoulders, the way his head is tilted forward as he inches towards the edge.

“There’s a girl, Joe. She’s in the bathroom now, but she’s been crying. JC’s soaked through, she’s been bullied and….god. She’s taken stuff and someone needs to call 911. I tried but my hands are too furry. I can’t push the buttons hard enough.” Chris is pacing now, looking from Joey to an open door.

Joey follows his gaze. There’s a girl curled on the bathroom floor. She’s small, just a kid, and pills spill from her lax hand. He takes a long look at her, the pink sparkly finger nails, dark curls pulled back in a blue bow, and knows he has to jump. It’s too far, and he won’t make it. He has to try.

Legs bent, Joey takes a final look, then jumps. He flies forward, hands outstretched, hitting hard against the side of the bed. Sliding, Joey’s fingers slip over the covers, then he feels fur against his hand, and grabs onto a white paw. Joey clings, digging his feet into the material as Chris pulls.

They’re getting nowhere, and Joey’s about to push Chris away, worried they’ll both go down, when Chris throws himself back, a last desperate move that leaves them side by side on the bed.

“Joey. The phone.”

Joey turns, forcing himself up on hands and knees. Chris sits up too, and Joey runs his hand through fur before standing and heading up the bed toward the pillow. It’s weird hearing JC’s voice, but Joey pushes past that, just gently touches one of the pillow’s corner tassels. They’re swaying in place and a damp strand wraps around Joey’s fingers.

“The phone’s under that big pillow. Chris tried to call, but he couldn’t, and oh, Joey. She’s so sad. She needs help.”

“I’ve got it, C. Don’t worry.” Joey grabs the phone with two hands, pulling so he can see the numbers. Pressing 911 he waits, blinking at the sound of a voice blasting against his ears. Hoping they can hear, he yells _I need help!_ , hoping that’s enough.

“They’ll trace the call, right?” Joey looks back, and Chris has pressed himself against JC, arms pushed against the pillow, JC’s tassels against Chris’ rounded ears.

“They should,” Chris says, and he beckons Joey close, huddling together, silently watching the girl until finally there’s the sounds of footsteps pounding up the stairs.

~*~*~*~

There’s an outburst of movement when they land back in the corridor. Feet against the floor, running and talking, and just revelling in the ability to move.

“I can’t believe I was a poster. A poster. That’s just not right. Lying there looking at the ceiling, waiting to be pinned to a wall.” Justin shivers from his shoulders to his feet.

“Try being a bobblehead. I swear, I thought my head was going to fall off.” Lance massages his neck, sighing when he hits a painful spot. “What were you, JC? Joey said you looked like you could be a pillow.”

“Yeah, I was,” JC says. He’s leaning against the wall, and his hair is damp, clinging to his forehead. He’s looking into the distance, and one side of his mouth curves up slightly when Chris steps forward, using his fingers to sweep the damp strands away from JC’s face. “Were we in time?”

The words are low, and Chris leaves his hand against JC’s face, palm over his cheek, fingers brushing his hairline as he replies. “I don’t know, but I hope so.”

Watching them, Chris pressing close to JC. Joey remembers fuzzy white arms, trailing blue tassels, pale skin and dark hair over bloodless lips. There’s no way of knowing if she’s okay, and Joey hates this place anew. Slides down the wall and leans his head against his bent knees.

“You want to talk?” Joey feels Lance’s hand, a comforting pressure against his leg.

“Not yet,” Joey says, and he feels Lance’s acceptance through his touch. A reassuring squeeze as they sit.

Justin’s the only one standing now, and he looks at them all before walking to the next door. “Wings. Wings are cool right?”

He sounda unsure. Joey doesn't blame him at all.

  



	4. Wings

JC sits cross-legged, picking at the blade of grass. They crumble in his fingers, tiny pieces dropping to the ground. It’s too hot to move, the air shimmering around them. The sky is a washed out blue, bleached pale by the sun.

They’ve been here for twenty minutes now, and they still don’t know which way to go. Empty horizon circles them, there are no buildings or trees or _anything_. Just brittle grass and air that scorches into your lungs.

“We can’t just stay here.” Chris is squinting, hand shading his eyes as he looks around. The back of his shirt is drenched, clinging to his back. The crease behind his knees shines wetly and JC reaches out a hand, lays his palm over the hard muscle of Chris’ calf. Chris doesn’t look down, but he moves into JC’s touch. Leaning just that bit closer, fingers brushing against JC’s shoulder.

“Everyone point a direction. Majority wins.” Joey stands up, holds out a hand to pull Lance to his feet. “You all ready?” Nods and sounds of agreement, and Joey clenches his hand. “On three. One. Two. Three.”

They all point, and the decision is made.

Walking is slow. The heat has stripped them of energy, and thirst is constant for them all. At least JC’s not hungry now, though he suspects that’s a bad thing. None of them talk, and Joey’s taken the lead, striding forward. He’s leaving indents in his wake, they all are, and if JC looks behind their journey is mapped by scars of smashed grass.

Lance is walking at Joey’s heels, Justin a few behind them both. Chris brings up the rear, looking downward and obviously favouring his right knee. JC bites back his words of worry, just stays close and forces a smile when Justin looks back, questions held in his gaze.

“What the hell?” Joey suddenly stops in place. His hands are in front of him, and he’s feeling empty air. Except, there’s ripples under his fingers, furrows of flickering light that dance over his skin. His hands are wavering, then suddenly gone, and Joey pulls back, eyes wide as he flexes his reappeared hands.

“Your hands….” Lance is holding one of Joey’s hands in his own. “Did they… I mean. Could you still feel them? That’s one of the freakiest things I’ve seen.”

“Yeah, it felt like they were still there. It was like pushing my hands into jello.” Using his free hand, he makes the air ripple again. It’s a beautiful sight and JC moves close, holding up his hand close to Joey’s. It tickles when one of the furrows break over his fingers, waves of light sliding across his palm. He pushes forward, and it _is_ like moving in jello, the air thickening, becoming solid against his touch. One more shove and his fingers are gone. He wiggles them, and he can feel the resulting movement even if he can’t see it at all.

“I guess we go through.” Chris has his hands up, palms flat as he moves to the side. He’s creating sections of dancing light, and JC suspects he could keep walking and still this barrier would go on.

“How do we know something’s on the other side?” It’s a valid question and JC pulls back his hand, turning so he can look at Justin.

“We don’t, but we’ll have to take that chance.”

Hunched in on himself, Justin’s keeps back as JC moves so almost half of one arm is invisible.

“You know, this is stupid. I’m thirsty and my knee hurts and I’m not waiting while we discuss the pros and cons or going through that damn thing.”

Chris runs forward. JC reaches for him but his fingers slip over Chris’ arm and he’s left holding empty air. His hand against an area of space that moves in dizzying waves.

“Chris, you idiot.” Scowling, Justin steps into the waves, making them ripple even further.

“I guess we go in,” Joey says, and his hand is still in Lance’s when they step forward. Suddenly JC’s alone. It’s quiet and lonely and wrong. He steps forward.

~*~*~*~

JC stumbles through the other side. His skin tingles and he rubs his palms against his thighs. He opens his eyes and finds himself in a huge room, the walls and distant ceiling flickering with constant movement. There’s a man standing watching them all. He’s dressed in a grey tunic and pants, but it’s the wings that attract JC’s eyes. They’re large, sweeping down on a sharp curve, the biggest feathers just trailing the ground. Mostly they’re grey, but there are outbreaks of black and white, careful patterns that JC longs to touch.

“Welcome.” The wings move slightly as the man glides forward. “Forgive my haste, but time is our enemy. If you could follow me?”

“We’re not going anywhere until you tell us what’s going on.” Lance’s fingers are white around Joey’s hand and it’s obvious he’s not going anywhere. The man meets Lance’s gaze, then slowly looks at them all.

“I see you’re all in agreement. Very well. We can spare a little time.” He tucks in his wings until they’re flat against his back, standing so still JC wonders if he’s even breathing. “My name is Samuel. I’m in charge of the space between. I help people from one existence to another.”

”We’re dead?” Justin interrupts, sounding shocked.

“Normally that would be the case. But no, you’re not dead. In the simplest terms, you’re on loan to us.”

“On loan to do what?” Chris has moved in front of Justin and looks directly at Samuel.

“To become guardian angels.”

Joey breaks the resulting silence. “Are you telling us that guardian angels exist? And that they’re assigned like some kind of job?”

“Indeed we do exist, and yes, they’re assigned. How else would you get a guardian?”

JC isn’t sure it’s even a real question, but he answers anyway. “I guess I always thought they were with you from conception. A sort of soul mate thing.”

Samuel smiles, and light dances across his wings. “Nice thought, but not really practical. No, guardian angels are assigned, and only when needed.”

“You’re saying that you assign all the angels? Because I can’t see it.” Words laced with mistrust, Chris looks up at Samuel.

“Not at all. I have help.” Samuel smiles again, and his wings move slightly, as if he’s laughing inside. “Now come. Time is slipping by.” He walks towards a corridor that appears in the wall, never looking back to make sure they follow.

They pass many doorless rooms. Some are empty, but most are full. Spaces full of chattering men and women, wings of every colour and size. JC especially loves the room with the flying women, their hair streaming in waves as they swoop up high. He wants to stop and stare into that one, especially when he sees a girl with sparkly pink nails, a blue bow tying back her hair, but Chris grabs hold of his hand and doesn’t let go. Fingers digging into JC’s wrist as they keep walking.

Finally they stop, and Samuel nods his head at a door. “This is your room.” He hesitates then, and his wings splay, feathers whispering across the floor. “Normally guardians are eased into the role. Time has no meaning here, and they have time to grow, to learn. In your case that won’t be so. I’m sorry for that.” He inclines his head and opens the door. “I’ll be back when you’re ready.”

He runs, wings spreading wide. Then, with a jump and a series of powerful flaps, he explodes upwards and out of sight.

“I wonder if we’ll do that?”

“Not if I can help it.” Chris says, and he walks into the room, leaving Joey staring at the ceiling.

The room contains five mattresses on the floor. There’s a pile of clothes, pants and tunics that button up the back, and JC’s holding up each item, examining the material.

“We should get some of this stuff for the tour. It’s so light, but tough too. See.” He tugs at the tunic, letting it stretch then spring back into place.

“Yeah, we’ll just tell wardrobe about this great supplier we found. Just die and you too can get the material.” Lance is sitting on one of the mattresses, knees tucked up against his chin. He looks miserable, worrying at his cross necklace, then suddenly gasps sharply.

Worried, JC starts to move to him, then doubles over as pain explodes in his back. It burns, heat searing his skin and tears slide down his face as he collapses on his side. It hurts lying like that, as his back writhes beneath him. It pulls and splits, and he can feel liquid soak his shirt, seep down onto his pants.

Afraid, he reaches out a hand, grasping for anything that’ll make this go away. There’s nothing, and his fingers are claws, digging into the mattress. Panting for air, JC forces opens his eyes, gasps when he sees Justin, on hands and knees, back arched painfully upwards. His head is low, and the muscles in his arms strain as he sobs. Blood slicks down his side and his t-shirt is hanging, torn and sodden as something hard and sharp explodes out of Justin’s back.

“Justin.” Fighting against panic, JC tries to move, to get to Justin who’s screaming now, any meaning lost behind animalistic sounds as his back peels apart, exposing bone that glistens and moves, pushing outward, blood and fluid spraying in multiple droplets. They hit JC’s face, scalding hot and he weeps as he feels his own spine twist beneath his skin.

JC collapses on his front, nothing but raw flesh. The sounds of his friends agony in his ears as the first feathers start to form.

He doesn’t fall unconscious. He’s not that lucky. Instead he lies in a pool of his own blood, each breath laboured, face sticky and eyes wide. His head aches with new knowledge, years of learning condensed into minutes. JC knows all about the guardians. He knows how to fly, how to interpret the markings on the wings, he knows it all. But still, he lies still, afraid to move, his wings heavy against his back.

“There should be water back there.” Lance’s voice is harsh to hear, pain making it rougher, even deeper as he struggles to his knees. “We have to clean up.”

JC turns his head, watching as Lance slowly gets to his feet. His wings are matted, the markings covered, and they leave a wet trail across the floor when Lance helps Joey to his feet.

Gathering strength, JC rolls onto his stomach, pushing up on arms that wobble under his weight. His back burns with fresh fire, and his wings drag him down, unfamiliar as he finally stands. The room is a mess, the mattresses stained and wet. Joey and Lance are standing together; Lance’s snapped necklace hanging lax in his hand. Chris is trying to hold Justin upright, bowed under Justin’s weight, and JC takes hesitant steps across the room. Hauling Justin’s arm over his own shoulder.

JC knows there’ll be another room, a room with warm water and ointment for their backs. It’s part of his new knowledge and along with the others he searches, until finally Joey pushes against a panel of light, and the room is exposed.

It’s warm inside, warm and damp from the streams of water that flow from the roof. Shallow pools have formed under each stream, and JC steers Justin into the nearest one, helping him lie down. Immediately the water turns pink, flowing into the drain as Justin sighs. JC takes the next pool, and the water feels wonderful against his back, soothing the aches of rearranged bones and split skin. He’s lying on his side, wings a wet mass behind him as he rubs at his face and hair.

“You’ve missed a bit,” Chris says softly. He’s in the third pool, and he stretches, wincing a little as he uses his thumb to wipe at JC’s face. “There.”

“Thanks.” JC smiles, and he reaches out, fingers brushing against Chris’ arm as they lie still, warm and almost comfortable as the water flows.

~*~*~*~

JC’s fingers are puffy and wrinkled when he finally moves. The wings are a heavy presence on his back, and he staggers as he kneels. Water drips from his hair, sliding down his body as crawls from the pool, slow movements, feathers wet against his back. The wings hurt still, a deep ache concentrated between his shoulders, and JC winces as he stands.

He can feel the feathers brushing against the floor, a faint pressure, and he moves them experimentally.

“That’s so cool.” Joey’s sitting on the side of his pool. His legs are in the water still, and his wings are spread behind him, feathers dark and glistening against the floor. His back is reddened, dried blood clinging to the shafts that plunge into his skin. Still, they’re obviously part of him, an extension of his body, and when he stands he looks magnificent. Strong shoulders and muscled legs, his skin beaded with water, and the wings – they’re beautiful.

A jewelled purple covered with golden splashes of colour. Each mark signifying an event, Joey’s life-story carried on his back. His family strong linked circles that cover almost one half of a wing. Happy memories and laughter. Friends and Lance. JC can read that mark easily, a friend but more, twisted with the mark for lover. Kelly and Lance, twined together for all to see. Lance glances at that too, and looks down at the water. His wings tucked tight to his body.

“I’m going to try flying,” Justin announces, and he’s out of his pool and shaking his head, water flying from his curls. He’s flexing his wings and they’re a deep blue, feathers sleek as he flutters them dry. JC can’t catch all the markings, he gets an impression of a lost love – Britney -- and a bold mark that has to mean mom. Then he thinks he sees a faint mark, a vague circle linked between two others, but then Justin is gone, kicking off his wet sneakers as he runs for the next room.

When JC follows he finds Justin standing on one leg, wings wide and one hand against the wall as he pulls off his pants. They fall to the ground with a splat, water darkening the floor around them.

“Throw me some clothes will you.”

JC selects a tunic and pants in soft blue, throwing them across to Justin. Leaving him to get changed, JC peels off his own shirt. It’s ripped down the back and clings to his body in wet folds. Pulling it off, he lets it drop, then bends to loosen his laces. He shivers when his wings scrape across the ground, tiny jolts of sensation crawling within his spine. Shoes lose; he toes them off then removes his jeans. The material is heavy, stiff under his fingers as he pushes them down.

Feathers brush against naked skin, and JC hurriedly grabs pants from the pile, pulling them on. They’re soft, sliding over his legs as he takes a matching tunic. Slipping it on, he tries to fasten the buttons, but his fingers feel clumsy, and they slip from his grasp.

“I’ve got it.”

Chris has moved so he’s standing behind JC. He’s still dressed in his old clothes, t-shirt stained and shredded at the back, shorts wet through. His hair stands up in wet spikes, his eyelashes clumped dark. His hands are at JC’s back, fastening buttons, slowing when he approaches the join of wings and skin.

“There.”

JC feels the words against his neck, and turns to say thanks, but Chris has moved away. His wings are tucked tight as he looks for dry clothes, but JC sees enough to get an impression of what they say. Shimmering silver covered in dark grey. Solid family surrounded by those that are lost. Needs and wants and things Chris has always kept hidden. The wings are wonderful in their complexity, their honesty, but still… JC gulps, look down at burnt orange wings, tries to see what his own story reveals.

“An angel and still I can’t get pants that fit.” Chris is muttering to himself, and JC can’t help smiling when he sees the material pooled around his ankles.

“It won’t matter when you’re flying.” Justin has fastened his own tunic and is taking long strides around the room. His wings are open wide, and he makes a series of hops, wings flapping each time.

“Flying isn’t going to happen,” Chris says, and he pulls on his tunic.

“It’s fun.” Justin’s flying for real now, grinning hugely, and a wing tip brushes against JC’s cheek when he streaks past. “Come on, give it a try.”

“Again. No.” Chris is still watching Justin when JC starts to fasten his buttons. They’re small in JC’s hands and he threads them through the button-holes. Silver wings scraping against JC’s arm as goose-bumps appear across Chris’ shoulders.

“Doesn’t everyone want to fly?” Joey winks at JC, wings already flapping impatiently as Lance fastens buttons.

“Unlike certain freaks in this room, I’m content to stay on the ground.”

JC takes a step back when Chris’ wings quiver, swishing against the ground. “It’s okay, I don’t want to fly either,” JC says, and he makes his itchy wings stay still as Lance and Joey take flight.

Chris looks at JC, at the others who are laughing up high. The agony of before long forgotten. “I suppose I could go up a couple of feet.” His wings open, then close when Samuel suddenly appears.

“Forgive me for the brutality of the change. As I said, it couldn’t be helped.” He looks up, smiling as Joey, Justin and Lance land in a thump of feet against floor. “You fly well for novices. This is good.”

“Does that mean we have to fly somewhere?” Chris’ eyes are narrowed and Samuel’s wings glimmer in response.

“No. You don’t have to fly, though it would be easier. The choice is yours young Christopher.” He inclines his head, then walks back out of the door. “Time is pressing and you must go.”

“Go where?” Lance has hurried so he’s at Samuel’s side. Their wings brushing together, emerald green against grey. “You’re not telling us anything, surely it’s better to be prepared?”

“Normally, yes. In this case, you know much already. Just listen to your hearts and you’ll know the answer. Look and you will see.”

“Listen to our hearts? What kind of answer is that?”

Samuel ignores Lance, holding his hands over a panel in the wall. ““The only one I can give. Now, you must go.”

The panel dissolves, showing clouds and sky. Mouth dry, JC tries to take a step back, but Samuel grabs his hand. His fingers are like steel, holding tight as he pulls, and suddenly JC’s falling, plummeting to the ground.

Heart racing, he starts to yell, then his wings open fully, and he’s diving, the wind pushing back his hair. Exhilarated, he twists, wings flapping powerfully as he flies high, circling as one by one the others are thrown too, their wings spreading wide as they automatically fly.

“Tell me we’re near the ground.” Chris’ eyes are shut, and JC reaches for him, veering away when their wings touch.

“Not yet. But open your eyes. It’s beautiful.” JC stays close, watching as Chris opens his eyes.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful. Where’s the ground?” Always looking forward, Chris follows JC who’s seen an isolated house on a beach far below. It has to be their target, and the others agree, putting thumbs up as they start to zoom, or in Chris’ case, slowly fly down.

The house is small, one story with pale salt sprayed walls. A small garden ends at the sand, wind collapsed flowers and a wooden bench swing looking out to sea. There’s a man sitting at the waters edge, and JC rubs at his eyes when he realises who it is.

They land in the garden, no one speaking until Chris is at their sides.

“Is that Kevin Richardson out there? Because I’m telling you right now. Nick I’ll do, Kevin. Not so much.”

Surprised, Justin looked at Chris. “I thought you liked Kevin?”

“I do, but it’s hell on my neck. I haven’t recovered from last time yet.” Chris rubs at the back of his neck, grinning as Justin turns to look at him.

“You and Kevin? But I thought… I mean….”

“Shut your mouth, you’ll catch flies.” Chris puts his fingers under Justin’s chin, closing his mouth. “Come on, we’d better see what’s up.”

He starts walking, his wings leaving trails in the sandy ground.

“JC. Did you know?” Justin’s looking at JC, eyebrows drawn close and worried.

“Course I did.” He runs his fingers over Justin’s wings, enjoying the feel of silken feathers. “I was there after all.” Leaving Justin open mouthed, JC runs after Chris, “That was mean.”

“Yeah.” Chris is grinning as he pulls at the gate separating garden from beach. “He shouldn’t be so gullible. Kevin. As if. Kristen would have my balls.”

“Or ask you to join in.” Joey’s joined them and JC can’t help laughing at his comment, because it’s so true. Then his laughter fades when he finally sees Kevin clearly, and the problem is glaringly obvious.

Hunched over, his chin resting on his knees, Kevin’s wings are spread behind him. They’re tattered, feathers missing and cruelly cropped. Blood stains those that remain, white tinged pink to deep red. His back is inflamed, skin puffy and raw.

“Kevin’s a guardian angel,” Lance says, and they’re standing close, unsure what to do.

“Was, I’d say.” JC’s wings ache in sympathy and he heads toward Kevin, needing to offer comfort. “Kevin.”

Kevin doesn’t move; just keep looking at the ocean.

“”Kevin, it’s JC.” JC lays a careful hand on Kevin’s shoulder. It feels wet, and when he moves his hand, his fingers are stained red. “Samuel sent us.”

“He want my wings back? Because it’s too late, I did his job for him.” Kevin doesn’t look at JC, and his voice is empty, as if he’s far away.

“You did this?” Horrified, JC looks back at the others who’re standing together, letting JC talk. “Why?”

“Why? Isn’t it obvious?” Kevin looks then, and his eyes are red-rimmed and glassy. “I’m supposed to be a guardian angel, and I failed.”

“Failed. How?” JC has to ask, but he suspects the answer. The entertainment business is a small world and they’ve all heard about Backstreet’s problems. AJ in rehab, Nick on the verge of a breakdown. It’s been the gossip for months.

“It’s not your fault.”

“They all say that. Not your fault Kevin, AJ has problems that you can’t fix. You didn’t pour the drink down his throat, and yeah. I know that. I know it, JC. But I’m supposed to be a guardian angel, but more than that, I’m supposed to be a friend.”

“I can’t say anything about the angel thing, I didn’t even know they existed until a few hours ago, but I know you’re a good friend. One of the best.”

“Some friend. I was supposed to protect them and I failed”

“That’s bullshit.” Sand kicks up around Chris’ feet as he moves to stand in front of Kevin. “So you hacked off your wings and then what? Jump in the sea and drown because you’re not the perfect guardian angel. How fucking selfish are you? They’re going through hell, and you think killing yourself is the thing to do? You think seeing your bloated body will make AJ stop drinking. Standing over your coffin as your mom cries make Nick any happier. Jesus, Kevin. You make me so fucking mad. So you think you fucked up. Fix things, be there when they need you. This isn’t the answer. You’re….” Chris kicks at the sand, hands in tight fists. “I just… this isn’t the answer you selfish bastard.”

Wings flared, Chris hurries away, and JC’s relieved when Justin follows, running to catch up. Watching, JC waits until they’re talking intently, Justin’s hand on Chris’ shoulder, then turns back to Kevin.

“He didn’t mean it. Well, he did, just. Just, could have said it in a better way.”

“No, he’s right. I’ve been so miserable lately. I’m supposed to be the sensible one, the one people turn to, and I had no one. Had to keep going when everything was going to hell. But Chris is right, this isn’t the answer.” Kevin reaches to his back, touching savaged feathers. “I was so proud when I got these. It took months and I was between for months, learning and growing my wings. No one could see them here, but I could, and now, a bottle of scotch and a pair of scissors later, they’re gone. I’m an idiot.”

“Pretty much,” JC agrees, but he stays close, carefully wrapping his arm around Kevin’s shoulders. “You need to go back.”

Kevin closes his eyes, leaning against JC. “I will.”

“He needs to come with me first, get those fixed.” JC blinks when Samuel suddenly appears.

“You can transport too?”

“I can do many things, Joshua.” Samuel holds out his hand to Kevin pulling him to his feet.

“Thanks, JC.” Kevin sways in place, and his wings drip tiny droplets of blood onto the sand. Then he blinks, looking behind JC to Lance and Joey, then across to Justin and Chris. “But I didn’t know you were all guardians too.”

“They’re emergency guardians I guess.” Samuel smiles, and waves his hand, making a panel of light appear. It clears, and JC can see into a room behind, rows of beds, bustling men bathed in light and _Nick Carter_.

“Is that….”

“Thank you.” Samuel interrupts. “All of you. Sometimes you need to talk to someone who understands.” He steers Kevin into the room, and they’re gone, and JC is pulled back into space, tumbling free.

~*~*~*~

“I knew flying would rock.” Joey is grinning, trading high fives with Justin and Lance.

“If you say so.” Chris doesn’t appear sure at all. He’s sitting on the floor, rubbing at his back. They’re in their old clothes, but JC can still feel the wings, despite knowing they’re gone. He misses them, the weight and feel of feathers, the ability to fly up high.

“I hope Kevin’s okay,” JC says, and he can’t help remembering when Kevin was led away, bloodied and beaten in spirit.

“He’ll be fine, is fine. We’ve seen him remember.”

JC settles next to Chris. It makes his head hurt thinking about time, but it’s better than thinking about his stomach. The hunger pains returning as soon as they returned.

“I’m so hungry I could eat one of you.” Justin’s settled down, leaning against the wall. He’s looking down at JC and Chris, appraising them. "Not you, C. You’re too skinny for a good meal. Chris though, that leg looks good.”

“In your dreams, baby.” Chris is grinning up at Justin. “Go see where we’re going next. Maybe it’s a restaurant.”

“Yeah, like we’re that lucky.” But Justin does go, walking to the door number five. “Tentacles. Sushi!”

“Sushi, right. It’ll be like that yaoi you read that time. You know, with the tentacles in every orifice. Just you see.”

Justin looks horrified, but JC can’t help being intrigued. Maybe it won’t be so bad after all.

  



	5. Tentacles

"No. See, it's all about the clichés, seme is smaller, the uke is taller. You'd have to be the seme," Justin says, and Chris is staring at him, expression caught between a glare and disbelief. Justin glares back. "What? What? You brought this up. Not me."  
  


"I made one comment about tentacles and orifices. One. You've had a whole conversation about yaoi. A one sided conversation may I add." Chris narrows his eyes, looking deeply suspicious. "How the hell do you know this stuff anyway? Why would you want to know?"  
  


"It's interesting, there's this whole culture. They've got their own words and meanings."  
  


"Okay, that's it. No more internet for you. It's obviously warped your mind."  
  


"Like it wasn't warped the day I met you." Justin holds up his hand, cutting off Chris mid word. "And it's not like I have anything else to do, not when I'm trapped in my bunk, worrying about what I'll see when I pull back the curtain."  
  


"Once. You walked in on us once. Despite your press you're not a virgin. Seeing my naked ass won't traumatise you."  
  


"Says you." Justin looks from Chris to JC, and forces a scowl.  
  


"As fascinating as this is, which, by the way, isn't at all. We need to go in." Lance pushes between Chris and Justin. He rests his hand on the door, then hesitates, looking back. "If one tentacle even approaches my ass, I'm gonna blame you two."  


"Like we have any influence." Justin starts to protest, but Lance ignores him, looking determined as he pokes a blunt finger against Justin's chest.  
  


"One touch of tentacle. One _tip_ of tentacle inside my pants. I swear. Your fault."   
  
Lance's eyes are narrow, his smile toothy and bright. Justin takes a step back out of range of the prodding finger.  
  
Point made, Lance unleashes one last threatening smile, and pushes open the door. As with the others, it's dark inside, and he hesitates, the toes of his shoes covered in shadows. Smile gone, his hands bunched into fists, Lance walks inside.  
  


"Total seme." JC leans in, his hand against Justin's side, his words warm against Justin's neck.  
  


"What?"  
  


"Lance. So a seme.."  


A squeeze of his hand, a step forward and JC follows Joey through the doorway. Justin stares after him, piecing together strange histories on his laptop, links added to his favourite folder. Then Chris sighs impatiently and grabs for Justin's hand, his fingers tight around Justin's as he pulls them forward.  
  


~*~*~*~

There's a spot of warmth as Justin careers through time and space. He's a breath of air, blazing atoms, a streak of light. All the time the warmth remains, and Justin tumbles to the ground, Chris still holding on tight.

They land in an undignified heap, and dust swirls around them in a dense cloud. Justin coughs up the dust that coats his tongue and throat, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He grimaces at the resulting dark streaks, dust turned dark and clinging.

"Stay still, it'll settle down," JC says, voice muffled from behind his hand. His eyes are bright as he blinks furiously, one tear sliding between his fingers, leaving a dark streak from eye to chin.

Taking his advice, they remain still. Knees bent, face pressed against his legs, Justin breathes against his jeans, sucking air through the dirty denim. It tastes dry, each breath coating his lungs, and he pushes back the need to cough.

"You know what I just said? Forget it. We need to get out of here." JC has his t-shirt pulled up, hiding the bottom half of his face. It leaves his stomach exposed, and Justin peers up the line of his legs, watching the tempting expanse of skin.

Joey points at a looming dark shape in the distance. "Those rocks look like they could have shelter."

"Better there than sitting here." Chris has his forearm pressed against his nose and mouth as he assesses distance. "Running or going slow?"

"We may as well run, it'll move anyway." Joey's point is proven when he stands, making dust swirl around him. His legs are concealed in a dirty brown cloud, and he coughs against his hand, waiting as they all stand. "Ready?"

Justin nods, and runs forward when Joey yells _go_. The earth seems to explode upwards, choking and clogging. Justin holds his breath, powering blindly forward through the dense cloud. Hands held forward, he grunts when his palms hit rock, then scrambles upwards, clawing for handholds, desperate to reach cleaner air.

This close, Justin realises the rocks are much bigger than they seemed, and he keeps climbing, only stopping when he reaches a wide ledge, collapsing to his knees and gasping. His lungs are burning and he spits up dust between each breath of air. It still feels bitty and dry, but he savours every mouthful as he leans forward, grabbing for a reaching hand. Yanking hard, he pulls JC onto the ledge, then together they help Lance, Joey and Chris up the last few feet.

None of them speak, just lie still and close in a grimy panting heap. They move when JC rolls to the side, coughing harshly. His face is red as he pushes himself up, leaning forward as Chris sits next to him, legs outstretched as he rubs JC's back. It doesn't seem to help, but Chris keeps rubbing, hands pressing in circles where wings had so recently been, until finally JC spat out a mouthful of dark phlegm.

"I liked those boots." Chris says, but he only spares his splattered boots a quick glance as he carefully wipes the tips of his fingers across JC's face, wiping away the tears. "You okay?"

"Yeah." JC's voice is rough, clogged. "That dust is brutal."

If anything, that's an understatement. The dust clings and burrows and Justin scratches at his arms, scrapes his nails down his neck. His nostrils feel dry, his skin parched, all moisture soaked away. He licks at his lips, and his tongue feels swollen, sticking to the roof of his mouth. His chest is tight, whistling with each breath as he looks down into the swirling clouds of dust.

"Don't get too close to the edge." Like them all, Chris is filthy, skin, clothes and hair a uniformed brown. The only colour is in his eyes, red rimmed and dark, and the pale tracks beneath them.

A non committal movement of hands and shoulders, and Justin takes a step back. An opening along the ledge attracting his attention. There's an outcrop of rock blocking his view, and his heels hang over the edge of the ledge as he leans out. He can feel the drop pulling at him, imagines plummeting down.

"What the hell are you doing?" Joey's suddenly holding onto Justin's arm, grip solid, holding him in place.

"There's an opening."

Joey looks where Justin points. "A cave? It's better than staying here I guess."

"Much better, and face it: there's nowhere else to go." It's the undeniable truth; rock stretches high above, the dust rules out going back down. Staying on the ledge will soon become unbearable. They have to make for the cave, somehow climb past the rock that blocks their way.

"Has anyone climbed before? Without harnesses?" There's silence. Justin knew there would be. They've talked too often, too long, for unknown skills to surface now. "Okay. I guess we wing it." He looks at the overhang, measuring distance. They're all used to climbing scaffolding, hanging off rigs. This has to be similar. Rock instead of metal, rough handholds instead of a harness. Surely some elements have to be the same? "I'll go first, either Joey or JC last."

There's no disagreeing, no arguing with the plan. Justin's world narrows, he doesn't see the others standing close. All he sees is the rock, the possible spaces to place hands and feet. He rubs his palms down his thighs. Then leaps, hitting hard, feet and hands scrabbling against stone.

Finally he jams his toes into a gap, fingers clinging to a tiny ledge. It's sharp against his skin, and he feels his fingernails bend and snap as he clings, cheek pressed against the rock. All too aware of the gravity that pulls at him, Justin concentrates on the next ledge, the one with the opening right behind. It's wide but smooth, and all he can do is push one foot hard against the rock, use his toes to push off and jump. It's risky, but it'll the only option, and Justin's heart is racing when he lands hard on the ledge, stomach scraping painfully against the ground.

"Justin! Are you okay?!" Lance yells, and Justin waves weakly in return.

It's tempting to explore the cave, but Justin only takes a brief look inside. It's more important to help the others get safely across. Standing close to the edge, braced and ready, he watches as JC jumps, long legs and arms scrabbling in the air. He hits with an audible thump, and Justin can barely bear to look as he slides.

"There's a foothold to your left. An inch more. There." Justin relaxes a little, holding out a hand, ready to grab when JC takes a last wild leap. He does so, and Justin has a handful of JC's shirt, pulling him safely landing onto the ledge.

Lance is next, and he's grinning as he carefully inches close. He seems to enjoy the feeling of balancing up high. There's a scary moment when he's stuck half way, because his legs just aren't as long as Justin or JC's, nor his reach, and it takes Justin reaching out, JC holding tight to his belt, to pull Lance to safety. He lands with a thump, still smiling, adrenalin making his eyes sparkle as he lies back and catches his breath.

That leaves Joey and Chris. Justin worries. He knows despite any fears, Chris will climb, it's just that, if Lance had problems, Chris will too.

"You hang onto me this time." JC's already at the edge, hand pressed against rock. He's tense, watching as Chris takes that first jump. He makes it look easy, but it's anything but. Justin swallows hard as Chris clings, eyes shut and body pressed close to the side. There's a trickle of blood running down one of his fingers, red against the brown dust. Justin watches it, a winding path from nail to wrist. Then Chris opens his eyes, focussing on JC.

"You need to push off and jump. I'll catch you. Promise."

Despite standing so close, his hand wrapped around JC's belt, Justin feels excluded, cast out of this moment. Chris nods and he's jumping, arms outstretched, unable to reach the ledge, but knowing JC will catch him anyway.

They all collapse in a heap, JC's arms wrapped around Chris. Justin scrambles free. He wants to stay, help soothe away the fear that's hidden under Chris' tight control. Instead he stands and leaves them alone.

Lance is Justin's anchor, and together they help Joey across, pulling him to safety. He's greeted with hugs, relief that they're together once more. Hands and arms against Justin's back and sides. Someone's hair in his face, nervous laughter and talk as they pull apart, turning as one to stare into the dark opening of the cave.

"There could be a spring in there," JC says, a faint hope none of them believe.

"Or there could be giant squid ready to plunder Lance' ass." Chris is grinning, teeth a shock of white in his dirty face.

"Remember what I said?"

Chris widens his eyes, faking fear and Lance is _looking_ at him, even as his mouth curves into a smile. Justin doesn't point out that Lance hadn't even threatened Chris, not that he'd threatened Justin either, but still. It's _Lance._

"Best get it over with." Resigned, JC walks forward, swallowed into the darkness almost immediately.

"Wait up," Chris says, hurrying inside. Justin follows him, aware of Lance and Joey close behind.

The darkness feels solid, pressing down on Justin as he slowly walks. He can hear breathing, the dull thud of footsteps, a dripping sound above his head, but he can see nothing. Justin doesn't like it. He hates this darkness, and closes his eyes, hands held in front of him as he walks.

"I think I can see light." JC's voice sounds far away, and Justin's heart is thundering, afraid of being left alone.

"Yeah, it's getting brighter." JC sounds closer now, and Justin opens his eyes, relieved when he sees a faint line of light. He hurries toward it, figures materialising around him. JC's back, Joey's arm and hand, faded images that take shape, becoming solid as they walk.

"Oh, hell no."

Justin runs forward, needing to see what JC's seen. Then freezes as he emerges into a huge cavern, trying to understand what he's seeing, because that _thing_ can't be real.

"It's not sushi," Joey says, and he's resting his hands on Justin's shoulders, his fingers tightening as the thing moves.

"It's freaking sushi mutated times ten, with additional teeth, suckers and did I say, it's fucking huge." Chris is staring up the thing, his eyes moving as he tracks the movement of tentacles through the air.

"I think it's some kind of squid," Lance looks at the thing too, considering. "That's what the shape of the body would suggest, and the tentacles, though obviously there's more than usual and they're bigger."

"Obviously," Joey says dryly, taking his hands away from Justin's shoulders. "But what are we supposed to do?"

Missing the comfort of Joey's touch, Justin takes a step forward, squinting when he sees something almost hidden behind the squid. At first he thinks it's some kind of egg, that is, if squids even lay eggs, and even if they don't, this one probably does. Then the thing moves, and Justin recognises what's there.

"I think we have to rescue Wade."

There's a jumble of voices, but Justin just points toward the figure, dressed in white, a hood pulled over their head, but unmistakably Wade.

"Wade's a virgin maiden. That explains a lot."

Chris watches as Wade scuffles backwards, away from a thrashing tentacle. Justin is tempted to tell Chris that Wade's not a virgin at all, and that Justin knows that for sure, but before he can speak he's distracted by Joey who's glaring alternately at the squid and at Wade.

"I suppose we'd better rescue him." He sounds reluctant, eyes narrowed as he looks toward Wade, as if battling with his own good nature about leaving this Wade behind.

There's a sudden shout, and Lance is moving, looking between the squid behind him, and a deeper patch of darkness that blends into the wall to their left. "Look."

He's leaning into a small cave. Dark with damp walls, it blends into the main wall, and Justin has no idea how Lance saw it at all, but he has, and he emerges holding a sword, brandishing it so the steel shines bright. It reflects the squid, each tentacles taller and wider than a man and Justin imagines going close, hacking as the squid tries to suck out his brain.

"That is just so cool." Chris hurries after Lance, bending into the cave to grab his own sword. He holds onto it two-handed, slicing it through the air, looking menacing as he looks toward the squid.

"Do we even know this squid is evil? It's not like it's done anything, and we all know Wade's an evil fucker. It could be him torturing the squid?"

JC steps back from the small cave holding a sword casually, its point hovering against his ankle. Justin imagines severed tendons, but JC seems confident, fingers wrapped around the hilt, as if he's held a sword all his life. Maybe he has, JC's past is a murky thing at times.

"Wade's the spawn of the devil."

"He's not that bad, Joe." Chris slashes at the air again. "Then again, he did make me dance _I Want You Back_ seven times in a row. Bastard."

"You needed the practice, and Wade's okay." Justin waits for someone to back him up, but there's silence. "Okay, so you think he's evil, the spawn of Lou, ambition and greed, still. We can't let him get eaten by a giant squid."

"Why not?"

Justin whirls around so he can look at Chris. "Because it's _a giant squid monster_. A choice between saving the squid and saving Wade should be obvious. Look at him, he's scared."

"Probably afraid he'll get squid juice on his perfect hair," Lance comments, looking at Justin, unrepentant despite Justin's glare.

"Look, it's moving."

Turning at JC's shout, Justin shudders in horror when the squid starts to move across the floor. It doesn't seem to have legs, just pulses along, leaving slime in its wake. Then it raises one tentacle, suckers opening wide, and wraps it around Wade's chest.

Wade screams, a high shrill sound and Justin's grabbing a sword, running forward, the blade held high.

"Justin! Justin, come back here before I kill you myself!"

Justin ignores Chris, and just keeps running forward. The stench thickens as he gets closer, fish and salt water and something bitter that clogs Justin's throat. He coughs, eyes streaming, but still he runs closer. Wade's screams give him courage as a tentacle is thrust his way. Justin jumps, landing in a pool of slime on one knee. He remains motionless, watching as the squid's tentacles move crazily around him.

He can hear the slash of metal through the air, curses and frantic footsteps, but all he's concentrating on is Wade, the wideness of his eyes, the way his mouth is open, blood spilling down his chin as the squid tightens its hold.

It'll be too late for Wade soon, and Justin makes a decision. Yelling, sword above his head, he surges forward, hacking the sharp blade into the tentacle that holds Wade. There's a bellow of sound, and another tentacle thumps into Justin's back, throwing him to the ground. Face down, fighting for breath, Justin hears the first crunch of bone, looks up to see Wade staring at him, imploring as tears slide down his cheeks.

Gathering strength, Justin struggles to his feet. Quickly looking around he sees JC jabbing his sword into the body of the squid. Joey and Lance, back to back, slashing at any tentacle that comes near, and Chris, sawing at a tentacle that writhes in the air.

That leaves Justin to save Wade. Wiping his slime coated hands against his thighs; he picks up his sword, knowing he can only have seconds left. After that it'll be too late.

Putting everything into one powerful blow, he severs the tentacle that's wrapped around Wade's chest. It flops to the ground with a splat, dark blood pooling around it as it writhes.

Wade drops to his knees. His white robe is splattered with red now, and he looks up at Justin from hands and knees, the tears wet tracks on his face as he manages a faint smile.

Justin's sword hits the ground with a dull clank. He lets himself collapse too, pulling Wade close, because this might not be his Wade, but he's close enough, and Justin won't let him die alone.

Trusting the others to guard his back, Justin holds Wade, stroking his cheek, hoping he's giving some comfort at least, until finally, Wade takes his last breath.

Heat and speed and darkness, and Justin is wrenched away, everywhere and nowhere at all. He shouts as Wade is pulled away, taken by someone Justin can't see, big and blond, someone Justin knows but can't quite see, then Justin lands back in the corridor on his knees. He's clean, but he can still feel Wade's blood on his hands, can't see anything except those last torturous breathes.

"I'm done. I'm fucking done! You hear me?!" Justin staggers to his feet, pushing away the hands of the others. "How many more people do I have to see die? Wade, Chris, me! Who's next? JC? Joey? Lance? Do I have to hold them in my arms as they die too?"

Hands clenched into tight fists, Justin thumps at the walls, hating the sterile corridor, the doors that still stretch out of sight. All he wants is to go home, and he can't. Instead he's stuck here and it feels like he's losing his mind. He smacks his fists against the walls again. Hard.

"Hey, J. Don't." Chris grabs Justin's hands, holding on as Justin is surrounded. He can feel Joey against his back, JC's hair against his face, Lance at his side, expression concerned as they end in a group hug, Justin the centre as they hold on to one another, saying nothing as Justin's tears soak into Chris' shirt.

"What's next?" Cocooned within the others, Justin finally opens his eyes, rubbing his nose against the shoulder of Lance's t-shirt. He feels wrung out, but he needs this to be over. And the only way that will happen is if they keep going on.

"It's mpreg. Male pregnancy."

Justin turns so he can look at Lance. "Babies, babies are good. No one dies because of pregnancy." He rests his head against Lance's, ignoring the looks, because babies are good. Right?


End file.
